


Death Was an Invited Guest

by ck90



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Karen Page, F/M, Frank Totally Deserves It, I Hated That Hospital Scene, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Karen and Trish are friends, Language!, Maybe Sorta Angsty, Not Canon Compliant - Jessica Jones s2, Post Daredevil S3, Post Punisher S2, There's A Tag For That, There's a Payoff, sorta canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 12:11:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18738754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ck90/pseuds/ck90
Summary: You are cordially invited to the wedding of Ms. Karen Page and Mr. Danny Rand...Frank Castle is not invited but shows up anyway. Death is an invited guest with a plus many. Things are not always what they seem and Frank would know that if he was paying attention.





	Death Was an Invited Guest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FortySevens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FortySevens/gifts).



> This ficlet was unasked for, heh, but Happy Birthday FortySevens! Hope you like it. And it's even mostly canon compliant ;)

 

 

She was getting married. Good. That’s what he wanted for her. A normal, happy life away from all the darkness and death that surrounded him. That he sought out because anything else was just too goddamn painful. And _fuck_ he just couldn’t do it again. He couldn’t. He was barely holding on as it was and the thought of losing her because of something he did… _No, not on my watch._

He eyed her through the scope, blonde locks dipped back in laughter. She’s wearing a pretty blue-gray dress with white flowers across it, and she just looks fucking radiant. It hurt how beautiful she looked. No, that ain’t right. It’s not her beauty that hurts, it’s the man next to her, with his arms around her, laughing it up because she’s his.

That fucking hurts.

The only person to blame is the one that stares back in the mirror. Doesn’t even know why he continued to torture himself by staying and watching her be happy. He’s glad about that, he really is, just expected that it would be Red, not some stranger.

Well, a stranger to him, anyway.

_I don't_ _want to._

That was the only time he’d lied to her. God, he’d wanted to. So bad he could taste it. But the kid needed him and he couldn’t, just couldn't put Karen in danger. _He_ couldn’t function if she were in danger.

He told her to walk away, _made_ her walk away, and she had. He’d meant to stay away. He’d really tried, but God, she was the fucking moon and the sun, and he couldn’t stay away. Just couldn’t.

So he’d sat there and watched her be happy. Watched that fucking blond asshole touch her and hug and hold her. Bring her champagne as they basked in the support and love from their friends.

Red was there. Frank didn’t understand how he could just sit there and let Karen go. How he wouldn't fight for her.

_That Matt Murdock, does he know you're here?_

Frank had made himself believe that Red was what she wanted, what she deserved. It was the only way he could let her go. Again.

Yet, there he was, just blithely sitting around as another man claimed Karen Page. Not that she belonged to any man, just that, well, another man got to call her his. Got to touch her, hold her, kiss her. Love her.

This was what he deserved. This was _his_ punishment. To watch sunshine slip through his fingers because he was too chicken shit to do anything about it. She’d told him. Handed him her heart and he’d said no.

_I don_ _’t want to_.

He didn't deserve no light at the end of a tunnel. No light at all. But he was lying to himself saying he didn’t want _her._

Jesus fucking Christ. He could hear Maria now. _I can smell your bullshit from a mile away. Really? That_ _’s the shit you’re gonna pull? I don’t want to. Fuck your ‘I don't want to.’_

_Frank. Be happy. We love you._

He closed his eyes. He wasn’t worthy. Not after all the shit, he’s done. _Jesus Christ Frank, get off the cross, we need the wood. Don_ _’t be an asshole._

He was an asshole. He’d waited too long. Pushed her away too often.

And now she was marrying Danny Fucking Rand, some asshole prick with a trust fund. How did they even meet? Rich fancy boys weren’t her type.

Frank wanted to be happy for her.

But he fucking wasn't. She deserved better. Not some asshole hipster in an expensive suit. Certainly not Frank, but better. And he realized that no one would be good enough for Karen, because they’d never love her as he would. Did. Does.

 

 

Forty-eight hours later he was in another rooftop, watching her through the same scope. This time it was just the women. The goddamn _bachelorette_ party. What was it that the fucking English pricks called it? The Hen Party.

They were drinking. A lot. And laughing. He couldn’t help but smile. And Jesus Christ they could pack the food away when they were drinking. He didn’t recognize any of the women. A pretty blond, several attractive brunettes. He was a living, breathing man, they were pretty. What the fuck was Madani doing there anyway? He hadn't realized they’d become friends. Or at least friendly enough for one to be invited to the other’s wedding.

He didn’t remember Karen talking about any girlfriends before, not even in passing. Not that they’d had enough time even to go there.

Fuck he’d wasted so much time on his own bullshit. Yes, his family deserved vengeance, but he’d gotten them that a while ago. Fuck. Even Bill was dead. By Frank’ hand, of course. That hurt, too. Not the same, but it still hurt. The betrayal. The look in Bill’s eyes when he wanted to apologize but Frank wouldn’t, couldn’t, let him.

Fuck.

He was fucked up, and he couldn’t fix it. Maybe he didn’t want to, but he couldn't fix it without _her._ That wasn't fair. It wasn’t right. It just was. He shouldn’t put that on her, but here he was putting it on her even if it was from a distance.

The women laughed and drank and ate and laughed some more. Then it changed or at least Karen did. She was talking, and it turned into crying. And he knew it was the wine, but fuck she was crying, and he would have done anything, cut off his arm, just to make it better. Just to stop the tears.

She laughed and apologized, he could tell. But it was a moment in time she’d allowed herself to share. To be vulnerable. The thing was, the women around her understood, they usually do, and they listened and cried with her and then laughed and gave her more wine and cake.

And Karen wiped her tears and laughed again.

And if his face was, somehow wet, it was just the moisture in the air.

Jesus, it broke his heart to watch her cry. A not so small part of him knew - _knew -_ he was partly, if not wholly, to blame for those tears.

Fuck. How did he get here? How did it end up where what he wanted was so far out of reach with what he deserved, with what he could get?

_Don_ _’t be an asshole, Frank. It’s not too late. It’s never too late._

Fuck he missed Maria and the kids, but yeah, sometimes you had to lose something to see its worth. Fuck, Karen was irreplaceable, and he’d had that perfect sunshine, and he’d tossed it away out of some self-pity bullshit.

She was happy, and that should be enough, right? She looked happy, didn’t she? He should let her be happy. Just walk away. Let her be.

But he was a selfish prick. And he couldn’t. He just couldn't bring himself to let her go.

 

 

It was the wedding day. Red’s fucking church of all places. The church where she almost died, if it hadn’t been for that priest. Frank hadn’t been there for her. Hadn’t protected her like he’d promised. Jesus Christ, he was so fucking full of shit. He’d wanted to protect her, keep her away from his bullshit darkness, and there she was, in danger, threatened by Fisk and not because of Frank, but because Christ this woman was a shit magnet for a hundred miles wide. He hadn’t been there because he was a fucking coward. He’d almost lost her because of that, and the worst part of it was he wouldn’t have known for weeks.

Walk away, Marine. Walk away and let her be happy with that trust fund asshole. He hadn’t missed how the blond fucker had looked at the Asian girl when he thought no one was watching.  Fucking rich prick who probably thought he could have it all. Maybe he could. Asshole.

Frank knew where to go. He’d studied the blueprints. The ceremony was intended to be private, just a few close friends which surprised the fuck out him. He’d thought a rich prick would want to show off his beautiful bride, but this wasn’t the case.

Jesus. He should fucking kick the assholes’ ass just for not appreciating what he had.

Guests had been filing into the church in singles, pairs, and groups. It still was less than a hundred people. Not even close. He’d seen Red and Nelson, but that was it for Karen. It looked like she hadn't invited anyone from the Bulletin. He’d thought, at least her boss, but no. None. Only Murdock and Nelson. Even Nelson’s girlfriend wasn’t there.

There were people on the bride’s side he didn’t recognize. A brunette that looked bored. A man she was with. Probably. They were talking at least.  Mahoney of all people was there. Da hell?

The groom’s side was a little larger. The Asian girl was there. An African American woman with a stiff looking arm and a big dude that had muscles bulging out of his suit. A few other scattered people.

Still. It was a sad little ceremony for a trust fund baby. She deserved better. A grand affair to show off her beauty and grace. He’d fucking give her the world if he could.

There was some sort of delay. Just enough time for him to see her. One last time.

 

 

 

Karen sat in front of her laptop. Dammit, she needed some wine. Something. This story was kicking her ass. She couldn’t quite get a feel for it. Something was missing, and she didn’t know what it was. The lace was starting to itch, too. She should have _never_ trusted Danny to pick her outfit.

Although, all things considered, it wasn't awful. She fingered the lace. It wasn’t the soft fabric that was itching, she knew that. It was this whole damn thing and her part in it. She should have never agreed to it.

She was also nervous. Couldn’t deny that. It was her _wedding_ after all. Karen bit her lip to smother a laugh. A part of her, the little bit she wasn’t really acknowledging, was just a bit sad. This wasn’t what she’d pictured as her wedding. It wasn’t _bad_ all things considered, just not her.

Karen looked at her ‘gown’. It was really a pantsuit with a train. It was modern and trendy, and it would allow her to move when necessary. It also had a pocket just big enough for a gun.

What did that say about her? In a wedding outfit carrying a gun and laughing at the insanity of it.

The door creaked open. What was it about old buildings and creaky doors?

“Is it time yet?” Karen didn’t bother to look from the words flashing in front of her. “I’m getting bored, and this damn lace is itching.”

Karen smiled. _Finally!_ That was the angle she needed. Fingers flew over the keyboard.

“Just give me a sec, I just figured out how to write this beast.”

“No.”

Her fingers froze. How can a heart that had stopped beating get lodged in your throat? How were her lungs still working when she couldn’t remember how to breathe?

That voice. It hurt so much to hear it. She kept hearing it in dreams. Some were even happy enough that didn’t have her crying before she even woke up.

_You can do this. You can do this._ Just don’t fucking cry. There was enough of that the other night.

Karen took a deep breath and turned.

“Maybe. Yeah.”

He looked good. The hair was longer than it had been at the hospital. And the beard was back. She was rather fond of it. When was the last time she’d seen him without bruises? Damn, it was good to see him. Alive.

Frank’s eyes were jumpy, looking everywhere but her, hands buried deep in the pockets of the hoodie under a black jacket. If she didn’t know better, he was fidgeting. Then he looked up. Those damn expressive, puppy dog eyes, so full of longing. They were a mirror reflecting her own aching loneliness. Need.

She strangled a sob and dropped her eyes. He couldn’t be here. There was a plan. It was a solid plan, and she couldn’t function if he was here.

“What— What are you doing here?” She hated herself for sounding so small and needy.

_I don't_ _want to._

Right. She had to remember that one. Pull up her big girl panties and suck it up. And get rid of him. She took a deep breath.

“Whatta you need, Frank?”

He flinched, hurt flashing in those dark eyes, and she felt like a fucking monster who kicked a puppy. His jaw flexed, neck cording as he tried to swallow. Jesus, she could hear the teeth grinding from across the room.

“I, uh,” he cleared his throat, “nothing. I just — I came to apologize.” His head was bobbing up and down. Pain etched in every line, agony oozing out of every pore.

If she were a good woman, she’d tell him to go to protect him and find him, if she could, when it was all over.

_I don’t want to._ That had fucking _hurt_. She’d never claimed to be a good woman.

“For what?”

Blue eyes met brown, and if they’d just let their eyes talk, everything would be fine, but words always got in the way of the truth.

“I—”

The door swung open. “Hey, Kare,” Trish Walker stormed in, “we—” She stumbled over her own feet, eyes bouncing between Karen and Frank. “Uh.” Her eyes narrowed at Frank, then she turned to Karen. “That him?” Her voice was tight and angry.

Karen’s heart burst. She loved Trish Walker who looked ready to stomp the Punisher with her three-inch heels. Karen never really had girlfriends before. It just hadn’t worked out. And then this whole mess started, and now she had a damn pack of she-wolves who had her back.

Karen nodded. “It’s okay, Trish.”

Trish Walker smiled, showing teeth. “Make it hurt.” Then she turned around and closed the door behind her.

Karen covered her mouth because she might actually burst out laughing. Or crying. Or both.

“You were going to apologize?” Karen shrugged.

“Karen, at the hospital,” he was totally squirming now, “listen, you know what you mean to me.”

Sometimes she thought she did. Or maybe she’d just created something out of nothing because he would never let it be that something.

“A valuable asset.” His head snapped up. “A good source of information, yeah, I got that.” That felt cold even to her own ears.

“Don’t do that. It’s not like that, and you know it.” There was an almost plea in his voice, or maybe she just imagined it.

The way he was looking at her nearly broke her resolve. But she couldn’t let him stay, and there wasn’t time to explain. That was probably for the best.

“You’re right,” she said, trying to smile, but the muscles couldn’t quite make it right. “Am I going to see you again?”

_Believe it or not, I actually care what happens to you which makes precisely one of us._

His lip hitched up. Yeah, he remembered that too.

The door burst open, Colleen Wing and Misty Knight squeezed through the door and stared at Frank.

“We can take him. Just say the word,” Colleen said.

Misty studied Frank for several long seconds, then nodded. “Yeah. Absolutely.”

Karen had to close her eyes, just for a few seconds, just to get it together. These women that she’d hardly known a few weeks ago were standing up for her, and that was still new to her. They weren’t doing it because they were asked or out of some misguided guilt. They were doing it because they considered her a friend and that’s what friends do. Back each other up.

“It’s okay,” this time the smile was genuine, “how’s it going out there? We ready?”

Colleen sent Frank a, _I can take you, buddy, just give me a reason,_ stare, then turned to Karen. “We can stall as long as you need.”

“I’m almost done.” Karen nodded.

“Make it hurt,” Misty said as she stepped in front of Colleen, pushing the other woman out of the room.

Karen wished she could, but the problem was hurting Frank was destroying her. _Keep him safe. He can_ _’t be here. He can’t._

“It means a lot, to me, that you came. That you felt you needed to apologize,” she shrugged, “but you don’t. You don’t.”

She dug sharp crescents into her palms. That pain was the only thing keeping her in place. Otherwise she’d do something stupid like throw her arms around him and never let go.

He swallowed. “I— I shouldn’t have come—”

“Why did you?” Came out of her mouth before she could stop it. “Why, Frank? Of,” and now she couldn't stop, “all the days. Why this one?”

God his eyes. They were saying what his mouth refused to. She wanted to strangle him.

“I’m sorry.” He pressed his lips tight. “Goodbye, Karen.”

He walked out without ever looking back. Like he always did.

Karen threw the bouquet at the door. But he was gone and that meant he was safe. At least from the danger that always follows her.

 

_Fuck_. This was a mistake. Huge. A total FUBAR all because he couldn’t stay away from her. And all he did was make things worse. He should have known.

“Hey! Tough guy!”

Frank turned. The blonde - Trish? - came barreling towards him.

“You’re going to give up so easily?”

What the fuck did she expect him to do?

“I shouldn’t have come.” Jesus. Would he ever not fuck shit up?

“She kick you out? What? You thought it was going to be easy?” She crossed her arms, tapping painted nails against her arm. “You broke her heart, asshole.”

“Goddammit! I made it worse.” He ran his hand down his face. “Just ‘cuz…” _he needed to see her_. It had been a selfish prick move.

“So you’re just going to leave? Going to let her marry Danny Rand? Really?”

“Look, I—”

“You owe her, so suck it up, buttercup.” She blew out a frustrated breath. “We could use your help. We all have our people to protect, and I’m sure she’d rather have your body covering hers rather than mine.”

His mind kicked into gear. “You expecting trouble?”

“Hello, have you _met_ Karen Page? I’m just saying, sit on the front pew and be ready when she needs you. Not that she needs you, she can take care of herself, but you strike me as the type of guy who protects anyway.”

He understood protecting Karen. He could do that. Had to do it. Especially after not being there when she’d needed him.

“What type of trouble? I ain’t packing.”

“Wow,” Trish’s head tilted, “I expected the Punisher to always be packing.”

Frankie blinked.

“What? You think that hipster beard is enough to hide Frank Castle? And besides, there’s not a single woman in this church who isn’t ready to gut you because you made her cry. Sister solidarity is built on wine and cake.”

Her stance softened. “Come on Castle, don’t be an asshole. Don’t let her go again.”

“I ain’t stopping the ceremony if that’s what you're angling for.”

He wasn’t. Wouldn’t. If Karen wanted to marry some trust fund wandering eye snot nose, that was her business. Not his.

It wasn’t a warm smile. It was one that belonged to a shark. “Yeah, I don’t think you’re going to have to worry about that one.”

She pulled him into the church and down to the front pew right next to Red and Nelson.

“Right, Team Keep Page Alive has a last-minute recruit.” She pushed him, none too gently down on the bench. “Fill him in.”

With that, Trish Walker turned around, took two steps one way, then spun around and intercepted the pretty girl who’d wanted to skewer him earlier.

“No!” Trish pointed, ordering the girl back. The brunette gave him another dirty look but went back to her spot.

There was an amused snort behind them. Frank glanced at a bored looking brunette.

“Nobody stops that force of nature.”

The man next to her shrugged. “Thought Colleen had a chance. What? She has a damn sword strapped to her back.”

Swords. Great. He should have brought something other than the compact strapped to his ankle.

“Nelson.”

“Why am I not surprised.” Foggy shook his head.

“Murdock.”

“Frank.”

Foggy looked between both men and sighed. “The Triads. I hope you have something other than just a scary look to fight them with.”

“Dragon Tong?” Should’ve hit them when he had the chance. Frank looked at Red. “What did you get her into?”

“Actually,” the brunette piped in, “she got herself into it and would've gotten herself right out of it if it wasn’t for Dead Man Walking interfering.”

“You almost got her killed, Jessica.” Murdock’s voice was tight with barely suppressed anger.

Jessica leaned forward, arms on the back of their pew. “Really? Because as I recall, we had a plan that was going just fine until you showed up and blew it all to bits with your moral high horse. You got Harlem shot up.”

“We can’t go around murdering people, Jessica.”

Nelson’s eyes darted to Frank, then away.

“How’s that working for you, Red?”

Jessica eyed Frank, her lip twisting up. “Hey, Matt. Get off the cross. We need the wood.”

He kinda liked her. Anyone who raked Red over hot coals was okay in Frank’s book. The groom, followed by the sword girl came up to the altar and looked back at the door. Sword girl was the Best Man? Best Woman? The groom winked at her.

This shit was fucked up.

“How did she end up with trust fund boy?” Frank looked at Red, who just gripped that cane he didn’t really need, so he turned to Nelson.

“Don’t worry,” Jessica answered. “It ain’t gonna last.” She turned and studied Frank for several long seconds. “Hey, are you…?”

The music started, and everyone stood. Trish came down the aisle first, all smiles and Frank noticed a very subtle bulge in her lower back. He’d never been to a wedding where the Maid of Honor was packing.

Karen came down the aisle unescorted. Why wasn’t her father here or at least her boss? She looked stunning. The pantsuit/skirt thing was beautiful, but it just wasn’t her style. No way in hell did she pick that out. He’d always pictured her in something sleek and elegant. Not that he’d thought about it.

Those big blue eyes met his and widened in horror. She turned to Nelson who just frantically shook his head, then up to the altar at Trish who smiled broadly, then winked.

“Welcome Friends and Family. Today we are gathered together to celebrate a very special love—”

Jessica snorted. The man next sent a sharp elbow to her side, and she had to cover her mouth to stifle the rude noises.

“—and a unique moment in the lives Karen Page and Danny Rand as they join their lives in the union of holy marriage. All of us need and the desire to love and be loved. And the highest form of love…”

Red cocked his head. “Get ready, Frank. Take her out through the door of the Sanctuary. Foggy?”

Frank didn’t bother trying to find the threat Red had heard. Muscles tensed, ready to spring forward and cover Karen. He calculated the shortest path to the door, knowing exactly where it would lead.

“Duck and hide. Yeah. Got it.” He started sinking lower.

Then all hell broke loose.

Red stood as goddamn ninjas came down from the ceiling. Frank pulled out the XDM from his ankle and started firing even as he grabbed Nelson by the collar and shoved him towards the altar and Karen. He didn’t bother to see who was doing what. None of his goddamn business. If they needed help, they were on their own. His job was to get to Karen, and he dragged Nelson along for the ride.

They made it to the door of the Sanctuary and kept going down. He had a better chance of protecting both of them from a smaller area.

“Foggy. What are you doing here?”

He nodded to Frank. “Didn’t give me much choice, but I’m not really complaining.”

 

 

 

Karen glared at Foggy, but she was really furious at Frank. And Trish. And every damn vigilante in that damn church.

“Why are you still here?” She covered the fear with anger. He was supposed to be safe not here where he could get himself killed trying to protect her.

“The blonde said you needed help—”

“Not your help!”

He flinched and hurt flashed in his eyes. It almost made her take it back, but before she could even think how to do it, that damn blank mask of his covered his face again.

“Clearly you do if that damn boyfriend of yours goes off with the Best Woman instead of protecting you.”

They stood there, glaring at each other. She didn’t know if she wanted to kiss him or cap him.

Foggy looked between Karen and Frank, eyes widening. “Oh Karen, why?” He covered his face. “I’m just going to find some nice, quiet, unoccupied crypt. Find me when the shooting — in here, out there — ends.” He disappeared down one of the hallways.

“I thought you were leaving.” Like you always do.

Frank’s jaw tightened. “The blonde—”

“Trish.”

“Trish asked — bully guilted me into staying because—” He started pacing. “I owed you.”

She blanched and took a step back. It would have been less painful if he’d struck her. This was that damn hospital all over again. Except worse.

_Owed?_

“Karen.” He took a step forward and those expressive apologetic eyes of his made her want to cry.

Well. She was done crying over Frank Castle.

“Karen, I—”

“Don’t explain,” she was proud of that edge of steel, “don’t rationalize and for Christ’s sake don’t you dare apologize.”

She walked to the iron gate they’d come through and opened it for him.

“You owe me nothing.” She ripped off the damn train skirt and tossed it aside, then pulled out the gun from the pantsuit pocket. “I don’t need your help.”

Frank’s eyes widened. “Why are you carrying a gun inside your wedding dress?”

“Does this look remotely like _my_ wedding dress?”

How could he be such a stupid, blind, clueless man!

“Hello, Karen. It’s nice to see you again.”

A petrified huff escaped her lips. No. Not again. She slammed the gate back into Poindexter and pushed Frank out of the way as a knife flew through the air slashing a chunk of her blonde hair off. The former FBI agent kicked the gate back open and walked in.

Frank tried to push her behind him, but she walked out of reach and in between the men.

“Who’s this asshole?” He came up behind her, but her hand, the one holding the gun behind her back, pushed against him.

“Shut up, Frank.” Take the gun. Take the gun. It might be their only chance. “Agent Poindexter.”

He tilted his head. “Dex. Not an agent any longer. But you know that.” He looked at Frank. “Is this a friend? Someone you care about?”

Frank took her gun and for once in his life did what she wanted. Stayed behind her.

“Yes, it is, isn’t it. It’s in your eyes.” Dex blinked. “You have beautiful eyes, Karen.”

His words made her stomach roil. They were so lifeless. Just like his eyes.

“Will you be sad when I kill him?”

Karen clenched her jaw. “You think you know me? He’s just a jerk ball with a big mouth. He means nothing to me.”

She felt Frank tense behind her.

“I don’t think that’s true, Karen. Why are you protecting him, if you don’t care?”

“Because I’m not a psycho murderer like you.”

Dex’s lips twisted in a semblance of a smile. “You don’t think seven bullets into one man is a bit excessive?”

Karen stopped breathing. Wesley.

“Mr. Fisk was ever so angry with you about that. Killing his only friend. Not quite a North Star, but maybe for the type of man Fisk is,” Dex shrugged, “who am I to judge.”

“Fisk is back in prison,” Karen said. “Where you belong.”

“Where all of us belong, Karen.” Dex looked at Frank, then back to her. “Is he your North Star? Will it hurt you when I kill him?”

Karen clenched her jaw. “No.”

“I think it will,” Dex said. “Should I kill him to see which one of us is right?”

Karen took a deep breath. The silence was deafening, and Dex’s eyes flashed in confusion.

“Should I kill him to see—”

“I’m considering it.” Karen glanced behind Dex, then stepped away from Frank. “Go ahead. Kill him. Let’s find out.”

Shock blanketed Dex’s face.

“That how it is now?” Frank angled sideways to face her.

“I don’t want to.”

Frank blinked. “Karen, you have to—”

“I. Don’t. Want. To.” Her lips tightened into a thin line. She didn’t have to pretend now. The anger and hurt just bubbled out regardless of the fact they were facing a killer.

“Enough! You’re the Devil’s North Star, the one he depends on, I kill you and it ends him.”

Bitterness burst out. “Oh, that’s rich! You really don’t have a clue, do you?” She stepped in front of Frank again. “Oh, he’ll feel guilty, but God he’s a Catholic, guilt is their ambrosia. It won’t break him. All of these people here? My death would be a blip in their lives…except maybe Foggy. So go ahead, put me out of this goddamn misery.”

Dex shook his head. “No. You— you’re trying to confuse me.”

“Hey, Buddy?”

Dex turned and met Jessica’s hard fist. He crumbled like a cookie with a glass jaw.

“Uh, Karen?” Jessica rolled her eyes. “I’d kinda feel bad. If you died.”

Karen had to smother the hysterical outburst with her hand. “Thanks, Jess.”

Jessica nodded. “That’s him, right? Want me to hit him, too?”

“Can you knock some sense into him?” Karen couldn’t look at Frank, but she felt his bewilderment.

“He’s a man,” Jessica said. “They don’t know the meaning of the word.”  She kicked over Dex’s unconscious body. “What do I do with this one? Choir Boy is gonna wanna know.”

Karen thought about her coworkers at the Bulletin. The ones that didn’t make it home because of Dex. Of Father Lantom. “I don’t care.”

Jessica stared at her. She felt the weight of Frank’s gaze.

“All righty, then.” Jessica looked at Frank. “Hey, the least you can do is keep her safe until this is over.” She glanced at Karen. “Keep her out of the mess out there anyway. She can’t punch worth a damn.” She shrugged. “At least this part is over, Karen.”

Yeah. It was a hell of a long game they’d played to get Poindexter, but now they had.

“This was all some sort of trap?” Frank looked at Karen and Jessica. “It wasn’t ever a real wedding?”

Jessica’s face twisted in annoyance. “World’s Greatest Detective, we salute you!” She did a piss poor salute, too. Then picked up Dex’s body as if he were a child, and put it over her shoulder.

“What are you going to do with him?”

Jessica eyed Frank. “You going to be around to care?”

“I’d like to know if he’s going to come back for her.”

“Do I look like I wear a stupid red suit with horns? I don’t care when they don’t get back up.” She turned around and headed out back out, lugging the body. “God, I need a drink.”

Frank turned to Karen. “Is she getting rid of the body?”

“She didn’t say that.” Frank’s lips thinned. “She didn’t.”

He started pacing. “You’re not in love with him?”

Karen suddenly felt cold and oh, so tired. Wanted this whole mess just to be over already. She wrapped her arms around herself and sat down on the nearest surface.

She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands, not caring if she was going to look like a raccoon.

“God, are you talking about Matt again?”

The silence was heavy and lasted for so long she looked up wondering if he’d just walked out, but Frank was standing about an arm’s length away from her, holding out his jacket.

Karen looked at it, then at him. She didn’t want to take it. To feel it’s warmth, to smell like him. That would just make it so much harder to watch him walk away again. Like she knew he would.

“Danny Rand.”

She almost laughed, kept looking at his jacket still extended in front of her, waiting to be taken. She wasn’t going to.

“What do you care?” That sounded more petulant than she had intended.

She looked away. The jacket dropped to his side. Just as well. She wrapped her arms around herself again, anything to stave away that damn ache. Her eyes drifted shut. It had to be over soon, right? How long does a ninja fight last anyway?

“Hey,” he put the jacket around her, tugging at it until she put her arms through, “Karen, that’s not fair.”

His eyes. God, she loved those damn expressive puppy dog eyes of his.

“I don’t want to.”

He dropped his gaze. “Stop saying that.”

Oh, that’s rich coming from him. She got up, pushing away from his half-embrace. “I don’t want to.”

“Goddammit, Karen! You know why!”

“No!” She was so done with this…everything. “I don’t want to know why. I don’t want to care. I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

He looked like she'd hit him and maybe she should have.

“You come into my life when it’s convenient for you. And the worst part of it is that I _let_ you.” Her eyes ached with unshed tears, and she was too tired to stop them anymore. “Do you really not know who I’m in love with? Are you being stupid or just cruel?” She choked back a sob and turned away.

_I don_ _’t want to._ Had hurt. It had even broken her a bit, but she was a big girl, not a lovesick pathetic, naive, stupid…What the hell did she think would happen? He’d change? For her? _Her?_ No. She wasn’t that person. He’d said no. Might as well have been no way, no how…you’re not good enough. Never will be. She’d heard those words before.

He’d been _grateful_. It had meant something to him that she’d been there. Sure it did. Throw a hungry dog scrap, and they’d eat it up and thank you for it.

She wrapped the jacket tighter around herself. It smelled like gunpowder and steel and Frank, and now it would be forever ingrained in her mind. If she thought she had it bad before…it would be unbearable now.

Karen couldn’t tell when exactly when she’d fallen in love. Somewhere between bullets and bombs. Somewhere between the idea that saving him would save her and just helping him because deep down, she understood. Somewhere between his tragedy and her mistakes. Her many, many mistakes. It didn’t really matter. It happened.

She hadn’t really thought about it until the words tumbled out of her mouth in the hospital. At least she hadn’t said the actual words. She was spared that humiliation. Then. Not now. Not anymore. His silence was worse. She’d done what she’d promised she wouldn’t. Added to the pain and guilt that was already drowning him.

Her father was right. She ruined everything. That was what she did. Maybe someday she wouldn’t.

“What do you want, Frank?”

Maybe she could fix it? Try anyway. He didn’t deserve her dumping her hot mess on him.

“You.”

His voice was low, raspy and dripping with ache. And right behind her. Karen turned.

“I want you.” Frank’s hands cradled her face, thumbs wiping away the wet streaks. He dipped his forehead to hers. “I’m not worthy of your tears. Don’t let me hurt you.”

Her lips hitched up. “The people that can hurt you are the ones,” she gripped his hoodie tight, “you hold on to with two hands and never let go.”

“Jesus, Page,” a soft huff danced across her cheek, “you never let up, do you?”

Karen had intended to say, _You know me better than that._ Had opened her mouth to do so, but he kissed instead, swallowing the words, a gasp, any good intentions she might have had. He nipped at her lips, kissing the corner of her mouth, then his tongue swiped across her lower lip and in her mouth, tasting and savoring.

The world exploded in want and need so long repressed. It went beyond desire or passion. It had become more than that so long ago.

She didn’t even know how she ended up pressed against a stone column, his hands lifting her until her legs wrapped around him, lips and teeth grazing the sensitive skin of her neck, leaving marks. He nipped at her jaw, then back to her mouth.

She should be embarrassed she was practically dry humping the man in the tombs of a damn church of all places.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. I can’t unsee that!” Foggy covered his eyes.

Lips separated, but they didn’t pull away from each other.

“I’ll never unsee that." He started pacing half-blind. “I’ll never have sex again. Marci will kill me. I need a drink. Or twelve. Where can I get a drink?”

“I have whiskey in my desk,” Sister Maggie said from the stairs. She glared at Frank and Karen. “Come on Franklin, it will numb your discomfort.”

“Foggy. No one calls me Franklin except for my mother when she’s angry or my Aunt Jeanie when she’s had too much wine.”

“Come on, Franklin,” Maggie said, patting his shoulder, “it’s safe to leave to tombs.”

“He gonna be all right?” Frank buried his head against her neck, lips brushing against skin.

Karen dipped her head, giving him more access. “As soon as Marci seduces him, yes.”

He pulled away and looked at her. She could see the doubt in his eyes.

“I swear to Christ, if you tell me this doesn’t change anything, I will beat you with my bare hands.”

Lips quirked. “That right?” Then he grew serious. “It’s still dangerous, Karen. I can’t lose you. I can’t come back from that. I won’t.”

Her hand cupped his cheek, and he leaned into her caress. “How do you think I feel every time you leave?”

“You deserve better.”

He really thought he wasn’t good enough for her. Wasn’t worthy of a second chance at life. Not after what he’d done. Karen dug her fingers into his hair and yanked hard enough to elicit a hiss.

“Mine. I deserve what’s mine. And you’re mine.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
